


Incident

by TheBlackMagister



Series: Tattoos [6]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone Needs A Hug, Eye Trauma, Gun Violence, Hurt Rick, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Trauma, rick is so broken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 13:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11185881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackMagister/pseuds/TheBlackMagister
Summary: Carl's the victim of an unfortunate accident. Well - "accident".





	Incident

**Author's Note:**

> whoops

New Year’s flashes by about as fast as the lead-up to Christmas had, and all too soon the kids are returning to school and Negan’s going back to work. It seems suddenly that they’re rushing Carl out the door back to what he claims is “hell on Earth” – and while Negan silently agrees he just rolls his eyes and shoves the kid into the car.

Negan gets to stay home for one day, two weeks in. Judith’s sick as a damn dog, and despite Rick very nearly fighting him he convinces the younger man to go to work, he’s _got_ this. God, does Negan feel like trying to get Rick to do anything is like trying to pull teeth from a child. Eventually, though – _extremely_ reluctantly – Rick leaves, and Negan’s left with a sick toddler.

Okay, great. Now what?

Judith’s fussy and Negan’s still getting the hang of it, but he doesn’t think he’s doing _that_ badly. He gets fluid and food into her, at least, and he tries to get her to sleep. Not that it works very well, and they end up watching Winnie the Pooh on repeat. For the love of fuck if Negan has to watch another goddamn cartoon in the next four years he’s going to lose his mind. He doesn’t hate Winnie the Pooh, it’s just he’s pretty sure he can quote two different episodes in their entirety. Okay.. maybe he does hate the damn stupid fucking yellow bear.

Finally, after for-fucking-ever, Judith falls asleep in his arms. Thank God. She looks so damn cute, though, so it’s hard to be mad. He carries her up to her room and lays her down and holy fuck he sort of wants to take a picture and send it to Rick. It’d probably wake her up, unfortunately; hell, Negan’s terrified of just _walking out_ , for fear of her waking up. She doesn’t, though, and finally he can throw himself out on the couch and watch _actual_ television.

Except his phone fucking rings.

He stifles a groan behind his hand as he fishes it out of his pocket. It’s not a number he recognizes, and vaguely he takes into account the time: already 1 PM? Damn. He sighs once before answering, tucking it between his ear and his shoulder.

“Hello?”

“Hi, are you, um, Negan?” The girl on the other end sounds like she can’t be more than twenty. Negan sits up, rolling his stiff shoulders.

“Sure am. What can I do for you?”

“I’m calling on behalf of Carl Grimes? There’s been an accident at school, he’s, uh, he’s on his way to Grady-”

“What?” None of that had really sunk in until _Grady_. Wasn’t that the big hospital up in Atlanta? What the fuck had happened? Negan sits up straighter, stiffening, feeling his heartbeat pick up.

“There’s been an incident with another student. This is mostly just a notification that-”

“Uh, okay, thanks. Grady?”

“Yes, sir, he’s being transported-”

“Thanks.” Negan’s distracted, trembling as he hangs up. He’s shaking, when had he started doing that? Fuck. Oh fuck, he’s fucking crying, fucking shit bitch. He wonders if they’ve called Rick. Rick needs to know. He needs Rick, right now.

It’s extremely difficult to call Carol to come watch Judith, and he’s out the door hardly before she’s pulled up. He thanks her, obviously not really _with_ her at the moment, and then he’s in his Mustang and in high gear to the Sheriff’s office.

He catches Rick as Rick’s coming out, probably to do some job or something. He’d had some sort of whole damn speech, or something, but it fucking crumbles and he ends up just saying “Clock out, or whatever the fuck, we’re going to Atlanta.”

“What?” Rick stares at him incredulously. “Negan, I can’t just leave my job, I’m about to-”

“Carl’s hurt.” Negan chokes a little. “They’re taking him to Grady.”

Rick stares a moment longer, the blood draining from his face. “What-” He starts, his voice a croak, but Negan’s already shaking his head.

“I don’t know. We need to go _now_.”

Rick nods, dipping into the building for only a moment to tell them he was leaving and why, and then he lets himself into Negan’s car.

Negan can barely keep the speed limit on the highway – he needs to get to Atlanta. Rick’s been crying, and all Negan can really do is hold his hand. Negan’s already cried enough; now the anger is starting to set in, the urge to fucking _destroy_ whatever – or whoever – hurt his boy.

The hour drive to Atlanta takes more like 30 minutes – maybe 45, because at some point Rick manages to get the tears under control long enough to berate him for how fast he’s going. God, he’s shaking, they’re both trembling. He can only imagine what kind of damage Carl’s been through, and no matter how hard he tries to repress it he can’t help thinking _how much of him is left_? Even though it’s probably not that bad – Negan can’t help but to assume the worst.

When they pull into the parking space Rick’s shaking too hard to get out. The younger man’s body is racked with uncontrollable, involuntary sobs, and Negan knows if he doesn’t leave now he’ll be subject to the same fate. So he steps out of the car, trying to coax his legs to hold him up, and rounds the car to Rick’s side. He opens the door, kneels next to Rick, and draws the slighter man in for a nearly soul-crushing hug. Rick cries into his shoulder, and there’s nothing he can do to make it better, which hurts almost more than Rick’s abject terror of losing his son.

Finally Rick calms down enough at least to get into the hospital. He’s trembling all over, half-leaning on Negan, and he’s got a death grip on Negan’s hand. Negan’s throat is tight. He remembers the last time he’d been in a hospital, back up in Virginia, and it makes him feel fucking sick. He can’t imagine how Rick must feel.

“Negan,” Rick whispers, clinging to Negan’s arm, and Negan can feel the panicked thundering of his heart.

“Easy,” Negan soothes in a soft murmur. “Easy, Rick, it’s okay. Let’s find out where he is.”

Rick gives a short nod, and Negan leads him up to the front desk. The incessant white and clean is about to make him lose his head – but somehow he manages to keep his cool, asking for Carl’s room. Of course, he thinks Rick’s going to have some sort of complete meltdown right there when the poor girl at the desk tells them Carl’s in surgery, and he himself feels like he’s going to throw up.

Rick doesn’t _completely_ flip his lid, though, so instead of taking him outside Negan brings him to a nearby couch and settles him. He’s shaking so violently Negan’s surprised there’s not a goddamn earthquake going on in the background, and it’s no wonder he has to sit. Probably can’t really stand at the moment.

On the other hand Negan’s so wound up he _can’t_ sit. He paces the little space in front of Rick, biting the inside of his cheek – a nervous habit he’d developed the first time he’d tried to quit smoking, which hadn’t worked. God he could use a cigarette right about now. He sort of has the urge to tell the desk lady to fuck herself and go find Carl anyway. Then Rick touches his hand, a gesture not meant to give comfort so much as ask for it, and he sits stiffly in the seat next to Rick. Rick curls into his side, and he lets himself be soothed by his boyfriend’s warmth – even if Rick is crying.

Eventually a nurse comes to retrieve them. Negan thinks Rick might faint right then and there, but hey, he holds himself together for the most part. The hospital is too white, too clean for comfort and with every step further in the urge to turn and flee gets stronger. Negan almost does – except at the sight of Carl laying there, face half-wrapped in bandages, Rick staggers and nearly drops to the floor, and Negan has to catch him.

Rick makes some sort of strangled sound of agony, clutching at Negan’s biceps, after the nurse leaves them to have some privacy. Fuck fuck fuck. They’re probably bruising each other’s arms, but that’s okay, that’s not important. Eventually Rick sinks into a chair next to Carl, clinging to his hand, deep, heart-wrenching sobs forcing their way out of Rick’s chest. God, Negan just wants to crush all the grief out of his expression.

At some point the doctor comes in – time becomes a blur, so Negan’s not sure if they’ve been sitting there for minutes or possibly days. Gunshot, she says. Almost point blank but at an angle, missed his brain by centimeters. Had to remove the eye, too badly damaged. Carl may never be able to drive. Negan tunes out a lot of it, trying to ignore the cold fingers of dread creeping down his spine. Eventually she leaves them to it.

Rick leans into Negan’s shoulder and cries.

* * *

Carl’s in the hospital for almost two weeks, and that’s just before he wakes up. He’s obviously distraught at the damage and is almost inconsolable, save for Rick’s soft soothing. At least Rick had been able to get himself together before Carl woke up. It takes another couple of days to get the full story out of him, and when it comes out Negan thinks he might just fucking break the kid who did it.

Carl had been hanging out with a friend at school; nothing unusual. He’d brought up the friend’s (Ron, Negan thinks was his name) girlfriend – and that’s when Ron had pulled a gun on him and shot him in the face. The school security managed to get Ron down and get the gun away but the damage had been done. The bullet hadn’t gone through, barely even clean in, and had completely destroyed his eye and ripped up the surrounding skin. It’s.. God, it’s still a little bloody when they change the bandages, even though it’s been two weeks.

This time around Rick doesn’t even try to stop Negan when the older strides out of the room, hellbent on justice – or revenge. He can’t do anything, though, not from here, so he chainsmokes enough to give an elephant cancer and is tempted to hunt down the nearest bar. Fuck. He can’t fucking slip like that again, he knows that – this time Rick needs him, and Carl’s still alive to need him.

When he re-enters some time later, considerably calmer, Rick’s still holding on to Carl’s hand. Carl just looks tired, now, blue eye (fucking fuck Negan wants to vomit) half-lidded with exhaustion. Negan takes a tentative seat next to Rick, wraps one arm around Rick’s shoulder and rests the other hand against Carl’s as well, and Carl sighs, eye slipping shut.

Rick chokes a little, burying his face against Negan’s shoulder. The despair returns, stronger this time, clutching at Negan’s throat, because it feels so much like last time. There’s a difference, though, that he holds on to.

This time he can fucking fight.


End file.
